


Are You Afraid of the Dark?

by emwebb17



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emwebb17/pseuds/emwebb17
Summary: Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story "The Tale of the Carnival Ghost."





	

**Author's Note:**

> There are no tags/warnings as to avoid spoilers, but bear in mind this is a G-rated story based on a tween "scary" television show. It's all in campy good fun.

 

“Really, Dean?” Sam said, using _that_ tone of voice.  “That’s your costume?”

Dean looked down at his jeans and leather jacket and back up.  “It’s James Dean.  It’s an awesome costume.”

“It’s what you wear every day.”

Dean shrugged.  “I’m awesome.”

“You could at least do the hair then,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s not long enough.  We don’t have all shampoo commercial hair.”

Sam just gave him an unimpressed look and Dean pulled the flask from his jacket pocket and took a swig.  He offered it to Sam who looked at it like it might be poison for a moment, but then accepted it.  He took a short swallow and then fell into a coughing fit.  Dean just grinned as he watched his baby brother still try to act cool around him.  It was even more difficult to do when he was wearing blood-spattered surgical scrubs that were too short at the ankles.

There was a short rap on the motel door and Sam crossed the room to answer it.  His girlfriend, Tracy, smiled when she saw him and wrapped her arms around his neck for a kiss.  Dean tried not to notice exactly how short the skirt on her slutty nurse costume was.  When he finally pulled his eyes away from her ass, he realized he had been unsuccessful as both Sam and Tracy were staring at him.  He smiled.

“Nice costume, Tracy.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a wry smile.  “I like yours too.”

“What costume?” Sam asked with exasperation.

“He’s James Dean,” Tracy said.

Dean indicated Tracy with a hand as he gave Sam a vindicated look.  Tracy gave Dean a wink and Sam spotted it.

“Don’t encourage him,” he groused.

Tracy stood on her tiptoes and kissed Sam’s cheek.  “Come on, we’ve got a full night of fun ahead of us, and neither of you better crap out on me in the morning.  This is a test, Sam.  My parents will not be impressed if you can’t party all night and then take a solemn walk through a graveyard in the morning.”

“Like you do,” Dean said with a laugh as he grabbed the Impala’s keys.

“This isn’t some weird tradition that only my hometown does, Dean,” Tracy said indignantly.

“Yeah, okay.  Let’s go play with some dead people.”

Tracy huffed and glared at him.  Dean grinned and headed out of the motel.  He heard Sam whisper behind him, “This is why you don’t encourage him.”

 ***

Sam, Dean, and Tracy arrived at downtown Orilla del Rio just past nine o’clock.  The carnival was in full swing with lights flashing on hastily constructed rides, clanging and alarms drawing attention to scams masquerading as games, and the smell of fried foods and oil heavy in the air.  Dean eyed a stand advertising corndogs, fried pickles, and deep fried chocolate chip cookies.  Sam’s POS plastic car breaking down was the greatest thing to happen to him this Halloween.  Usually he flipped a coin for a straight or a gay bar and then hung around until someone picked him up.  Driving his little brother almost three hours so he could meet his girlfriend’s parents and participate in the slightly foreign concept of stretching Halloween into a three day event called Allhallowtide was turning out to be an enjoyable inconvenience.

Dean was a little concerned that he might end up being a third wheel, but the trio quickly expanded as Tracy’s friends and siblings joined them.  Dean was nearly twenty-five, but he was immediately transported back to that ten year old feeling when carnivals were awesome and not lame.  He rode the rickety rides that relied primarily on generating G-forces to be fun, and ate greasy, caveman-satisfying food that threatened to make reappearances on said rides.  He cheered on the crocodile wrestler and laughed his way through the fun house while Tracy and her friends (and Sam) screamed in terror every time a clown fell down from the ceiling on a thin wire.

It was just past midnight and officially All Saints Day when Tracy asked Sam to join her on the Tunnel of Love ride.  Several others in their group paired off to join them.  Tracy’s younger sister shyly asked Dean if he would go with her.  He shot a panicked look at Sam who was just barely stifling his mirth, and then managed to mumble something about carnival food going straight through him and needing to find a bathroom.  Then he made a run for it.  The last thing he wanted to do was be trapped in a tiny boat on rails in the dark with an amorous fifteen year old.

Once he was out of sight of the group, he bought a funnel cake and found a relatively deserted corner of the carnival near the back of the Ferris wheel.  He sat down on a large black case with thick black cables running out of it and regretted getting powdered sugar on his snack as he was immediately dusted in the fine, white powder.  He people-watched as he chowed down and soon found himself focusing on a young man standing on the fringe of the excitement.  The man was watching a teenager try to knock down some old-timey looking milk bottles with a ball to win a cheap stuffed animal for his girlfriend.  He looked a little wistful as he watched the girl be handed a disfigured, neon pink teddy bear.  He didn’t appear to be with anyone, and he never checked his watch or phone so Dean assumed he wasn’t waiting for anyone either.  He was tall with dark hair and a lithe figure under a tan trench coat.  His costume was either Constantine or a flasher.  The man turned slightly and Dean saw the suit and tie.  Constantine then.  Slightly disappointing.

Dean crammed the rest of the funnel cake into his mouth and dusted his hands and coat and jeans off as much as possible.  He headed over toward the guy, determined to be a Good Samaritan and fellow human being and say hi.  It had nothing to do with the fact that the guy was hot.  Dean was just that good of a person.

“Hey,” Dean said as he got close enough to be heard without shouting over the loud hum of the whirring machines.

The man looked over at him and blinked large, sad blue eyes at him.  Dean was taken aback for a moment by the sheer beauty of the man’s gaze.  It wasn’t just the mesmerizing depth of color; it was the melancholy emanating from them, which was practically divine in its starkness.

“Hello,” the man replied softly.

“A-are you okay?” Dean asked, his voice suddenly hoarse and cracking.  He cleared his throat and wished he’d bought some water to wash down the funnel cake.  “Are you okay?” Dean tried again, this time sounding more like himself.

The man smiled and the sadness bled out of his eyes and was replaced with subdued excitement and a pleased expression.

“I am now,” the man said, flirting with him if Dean wasn’t mistaken.

Dean smiled, pushing down that weird feeling he’d had a moment ago as they entered more familiar territory.  “I’m Dean,” he said, offering his hand.

The man looked at it for a moment, and then took it in his.  His hand was cold, but soft.

“My name is Castiel.  Most people call me Cas.”

“Well, I’m not ‘most people,’” Dean said with a wink and a smirk, “but I’ll call you Cas.”

The man laughed softly and then bit his lower lip.  It drew attention to how pretty his lips were.  He seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped, but he didn’t seem upset that Dean had noticed.  However, as the silence stretched on, their burgeoning attempts at flirting turned slightly awkward.

“So, uh,” Dean started, trying to break the re-formed ice.  “I saw you eyeing that girl’s teddy bear.  You want one?”

“Oh, no,” Cas said.  He smiled and looked over Dean’s shoulder.  “I want the bee.”

Dean turned and saw what might have been a bee—it was yellow and black and had more than four limbs—hanging from the side of a booth of a shooting game.  Dean turned back to Cas with a cheeky grin.

“I got you, man.”

Dean nodded his head toward the game booth and Castiel followed him out of the shadows.  Dean paid the man in the striped vest five dollars for three shots with an air rifle.  Of course, it took five targets down to get the bee, which meant Dean had to pay for another round.  Fortunately he was a good enough shot that ten dollars was all it took to make Cas’ eyes light up even more as Dean handed over the stuffed bumble bee.  Castiel smiled brightly at him and Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down to hide his blush.  He wasn’t usually this nervous around—anybody.  But Cas had an innocence about him that made him look at everything with wonderment.  Dean couldn’t help it that he found him ridiculously endearing.

They wandered away from the games and Dean was happy to follow Castiel down to the barns.  He didn’t even mind the pungent smell of farm animal as he followed Cas around and watched him coo over the chicks and rabbits and ponies.  He even “aw-ed” at the uncute animals like sheep and billy goats.  The pygmy goats were freaking adorable, he could admit that, but the big ones just looked like they were plotting something.

Dean had hoped to avoid the cows and the pigs, but Cas took him by the hand and led him inside.  He would have followed Cas anywhere to keep the simple joy he felt by holding his hand.  It was also really amusing to see the giant set of balls on the massive male hogs.  He’d never seen a pig so freaking big before.

They exited the barns still hand in hand, the bee tucked up securely under Cas’ other arm.  They walked through the bustling crowds which hadn’t thinned a whit despite the late hour.  Everyone, including the kids, made the trip to the cemetery in the morning.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Does your family do the whole Day of the Dead thing?”’

Cas cocked his head in question.

“The going to the graveyard and like, having a picnic breakfast with their dead relatives thing.”

“Oh, that.  Yes, of course.  Everyone who grew up in Orilla del Rio participates regardless of whether or not they’re Catholic or Hispanic.  It’s kind of become like Christmas in a way—everyone goes along with the activities even if they don’t believe in the spirituality behind it.”

“Ah.  I see.  So do people just pick random gravestones, or…?”

Cas chuckled.  “No.  Pretty much everyone in town knows someone in the Cementerio por la Orilla.”

“Is everything by the Orilla?” Dean asked with a laugh.

“Pretty much, actually.”

“Oh.”

They walked a few more paces.  “What’s an Orilla?”

Cas chuckled.  “It’s like a shore.  Or, the bank of a river.  This town stretches out about a mile along the river, though only a few hundred yards from the bank.  It’s an unusual set up, but pretty much every property is near the bank.”

“I guess there’s not a problem with flooding then?”

“No, not that I know of.  My family has lived here for several generations and there’s never been a record of a flood.”

“Hmm.  So, you’ll be going to visit your relatives come morning, then?”

Castiel’s smile faded a little.  “In a manner of speaking.  There are a lot of Novaks in the cemetery.  We’re watched over by a large marble angel erected by some rich relation in the early nineteen hundreds."

“Sounds pretty badass.”

“If one likes angels, I suppose,” Cas said cryptically.

Dean didn’t like the look on Cas’ face, so he gave his hand a little shake to get the faraway look in eyes to dissipate.  It worked as those bright blue eyes focused on him.

“Are you hungry?” Dean asked, realizing that funnel cake was four hours gone now.  In theory he’d be eating breakfast in a couple of hours, but he wasn’t sure if he would have much of an appetite in a graveyard.

“Not really,” Cas replied.

“Oh.”

Cas looked over toward the end of the fair and then back at Dean.  “Will you go on the Ferris wheel with me?”

“Of course,” Dean said with a grin.

They walked hand in hand toward the big wheel with blue and green lights alternating along its spokes.  Dean was pleased that Castiel’s hand felt warmer.  They waited in the short line for a few minutes and Cas just stared up at the slowly turning wheel like he was in a trance.  When it was their turn, Dean started to dig out his pass card from his pocket.

“I have a ticket,” Castiel said, his voice oddly distant.

He handed the ride operator a small, red tear-away ticket like the kind usually used for raffles.  The ride operator looked at the small ticket and handed it back.

“That’s not a ride ticket,” he said.

“Here, I’ve got two,” Dean said and handed over the plastic card that was loaded with fair credit.  The man scanned the card and let the two of them get into a car by themselves.  The wheel incrementally moved them higher as it stopped and started to offload and load more passengers.  Eventually it was turning smoothly and at its pinnacle giving them a rather stunning view of the city lights lining the dark snake of the river.  Cas was pressed against his side and Dean had no qualms about wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him closer.  Castiel sighed contentedly and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder.

The wheel turned and turned and Dean was lulled into a soothing daze.  He lost track of time and it was only when the inky blackness of night began to turn a deep violet on the eastern horizon that he became aware that they must have ridden for over an hour without interruption.  The ride operator was being very kind not to bother them.  Dean turned his head and pressed his lips against Cas’ soft hair.

“Looks like we’re going to have an amazing view of the sunrise,” Dean murmured.

Cas shifted against him—stiffened slightly—but then he turned into Dean’s body and clung to him more tightly.

“Did you know,” Cas’ soft voice blended into the night, “that the Ferris wheel they used to have at the carnival didn’t have cage seats?”

Dean shook his head.  “Did not know that,” he said with a quiet chuckle.

“They used to be just seats with a bar that folded across the front.  There was so much space people could turn completely around in them and stand up.  Teenagers got yelled at all the time.”

“I can believe it.”

“A couple people even fell out.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  One fell onto the spokes and was able to be rescued.  One fell out near the bottom and didn’t get hurt.  They didn’t decide to change it to a caged seat Ferris wheel until after someone died.”

Dean’s arm tightened his hold around Castiel.

“Someone died?”

Cas nodded.  “No one’s really sure why he stood up.  Whether it was a dare or something scared him.  Or…he did it intentionally.  But he fell out right at the top and died instantly when he hit the ground.”

“That’s awful.”

Cas nodded.  “Yes…”

“Did you know him?” Dean asked carefully.

“He died a long time ago.  At least thirty years or more.”

“Oh.”

The horizon was lavender with the barest hint of pink.  Castiel sat up suddenly and looked Dean in the eyes.  He smiled kindly at him and cupped his cheek tenderly.

“Thank you.  For spending tonight with me.”

Dean blushed furiously, unable to muster a response.  He wished he could duck his head and break the intense eye contact, but Cas’ hand held his chin up and prolonged the intimacy as the rising sun created a halo around Cas’ head.  Cas started to lean forward and Dean closed his eyes.  Castiel’s lips barely ghosted over his, but he felt more alive in that moment than he ever had before in his life.

The next thing Dean was aware of was the jerking halt of the Ferris wheel as his car came to a stop at the bottom.  The ride operator opened the door.

“Hey, guy,” the man said, “the carnival’s closing down for the Walk.”

Dean looked at the man, feeling a little fuzzy.  He processed his words and turned back to look at the seat next to him.  A misshapen black and yellow bumble bee sat next to him.  In a fog, Dean climbed out of the car.  The man made no comment that Dean exited the car alone.  It took a few moments of aimless wandering in the pale light of dawn before he remembered where he was supposed to meet up with Sam, Tracy, and her family.  All of the ride and booth lights had been turned off and the grounds were eerily silent.

Dean met up with Sam and the Bells by the gate to the south parking lot.  Tracy’s family was chattering cheerily in a mixture of Spanish and English as they worked out who would go in what cars and who had to carry what when they got to the cemetery.  Sam had his arm around Tracy’s shoulders (who had changed into a more modest dress for the morning’s activities) and smiled at Dean.

“Where’d you get off to?” Sam asked.

“Um.”  Dean still felt like he was walking through a hazy dream.  “I went to the barns.”

“The barns?” Sam asked.  “I thought you hated animals.”

“He probably got shot down,” Tracy teased him gently.  “He spent a ton of money trying to win her a stuffed bee and she totally bailed.”

Dean looked down and saw the bee in his hands.  He hadn’t realized he’d taken it with him.

Sam and Tracy were laughing at his expense, but he didn’t mind.  Sam noticed his lack of response and let go of Tracy to step closer to him.  He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Hey, Dean, are you okay?”

Dean looked up and met his brother’s eyes.  He managed a small smile.

“Yeah.  I’m okay.  Just a little sleepy I guess.”

“I told you to take a nap,” Sam said, accepting the excuse.

“You did, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me Sammy,” he whispered fiercely but it was too late.  Tracy was already looking between them with a happy expression.

“You call him Sammy?” she asked, voice pitched just a little too sweetly.

“Don’t start,” Sam grumbled.

Dean and Tracy laughed and they all walked toward the Impala with a couple of more Bells in tow.  The ride to the cemetery was less than ten minutes, but they had to park a ten minute walk away since everyone in town was converging on the same place.  Dean and Sam watched slightly agape as a long parade of townspeople filed down the road to the cemetery dressed in colorful clothing, some wearing painted masks.  It wasn’t a silent affair by any means or particularly somber, but the reverence for the departed was palpable.  They followed the Bells through the gates of the cemetery and branched off with them when they made for the plot that was the final resting spot for many of their relatives.

Dean and Sam hung back as the Bells began to erect an altar and lay out food and drink to tempt the spirits to come down and hear the family’s prayers.  Dean had brought along the stuffed bee because he’d heard from Tracy’s brother that their mother’s sister who had died when she was four was buried there.  He wasn’t sure when would be a good time to ask where the little girl’s grave was, so he let them do their thing and looked around.

The cemetery was a huge sprawling thing at the end of town and was actually quite far away from the river despite its name.  He supposed even hundreds of years ago people knew better than to bury their dead too close to their water source.  Tombstones of every shape and size and varying shades of grey dotted the browning grass covering the gently sloping hills.  About fifty yards to his left, he spotted a large stone angel silhouetted against the rising sun.  Dean put a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Dean walked down the winding path that led to a section of the cemetery that was surrounded by trees and looked to be the original cemetery before it had to be expanded.  The wrought iron fence was rusted and bent in several places.  The grass grew taller here and many headstones were broken and crumbling.  The names and dates had been worn away on some of them.

Dean walked carefully through the grass, doing his best to avoid stepping on an actual grave.  When he reached the marble statue, he was stunned to find that it towered over him by a good five or six feet.  It stood on a three foot pedestal, so the statue itself had to be nine or ten feet tall.  It had large wings spread over a collection of grave markers and a face streaked with green lichen tears.

Dean searched for some of the newer-looking tombstones, and found them on the other side of the angel, behind one of the wings.  He stepped into the shadow of the great statue, losing sight of Sam and the Bells as he did so.  There he found a plain headstone with a very old, dried out daisy chain hanging haphazardly from one side.

 

_Castiel Novak_

_July 10, 1959 – November 1, 1982_

_Beloved brother and son_

_An angel recalled to Heaven by God_

 

Dean did some quick math in his head.  Twenty-three.  Castiel had been younger than Dean when he had died.  He knelt down next to the grave and propped the little bee up next to the marker.  He put his hand on the tombstone.

“I’m glad I got to spend the night with you too, Cas.”  Dean smiled sadly and patted the stone.  “See you next year, buddy.”

Dean stood up and turned.  He started violently and did his best to swallow his heart back down his throat.  Standing—floating—before him was Castiel.  Or a semblance of Castiel.  He was mostly translucent and the angel was visible behind him.  Castiel smiled and it filled Dean with dread.

“You can see me now,” a whisper of wind that resembled Cas’ voice said.

The specter moved suddenly.

Dean’s scream never made it past his lips.


End file.
